


The Way They Touch

by CodaDelta



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: 1970s gay scene, Affairs, HIV/AIDS, Marvin and Whizzer's constant bickering, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodaDelta/pseuds/CodaDelta
Summary: A look at the evolution of Marvin and Whizzer's relationship from its start to its end.





	The Way They Touch

When Marvin was still married the touches weren't affectionate so much as they were curious. At least at first.  
The first time had been an accident- after whiskey and Whizzer's tight shirt proved too much for Marvin's restraint. He'd told Trina he was working late, and whether or not she believed him was of little consequence. When he'd told her about the possibility of his passing on an illness that he could only have caught from someone else, there had been no hope that the illusion of his fidelity was still intact, but she had never said anything. Although he highly doubted that she had ever thought about him screwing other men. He had felt guilty when she'd asked if he would be home to say goodnight to Jason, and there had been a distinct edge to her tone. Had he been more empathetic, Marvin wouldn't have blamed her.  
His hand had slid slowly up Whizzer's thigh as they talked about something and nothing in a club with a heavily implied if not explicitly stated sort of clientèle. Whizzer had been all teasing looks and quirked eyebrows until that point, and suddenly took hold of his wrist and kissed the inside of his forearm. There was a split second where he just held it there, before suddenly Marvin was pulled to his feet as Whizzer kissed him hard, there was a hand tangled in his hair, and his own was creeping further up towards somewhere completely inappropriate for any kind of public setting. After being pulled through Whizzer's front door they had dissolved into a mess of wandering hands before wrestling each other over to a cheap bed with expensive sheets. It was frantic and fantastic and embarrassingly short, and after the heat had died the touches were exploratory as fingers traced over the exposed skin of heaving chests.  
"You look better without that hideous shirt on." Whizzer told him with a satisfied smile as he watched Marvin pull his boxer shorts back on.

* * *

After Whizzer became something of a fixture in Marvin's life, things got infinitely more complicated. He introduced him to Trina as a friend of a colleague, and she seemed relieved that he wasn't a younger woman. They would go out several times a week for 'racquetball' and Trina had convinced him to have dinner with them a few times. Although Marvin had protested, and it had been just as awkward as he'd expected it to be, Whizzer had politely offered to help and made a point of being inappropriate with every food that was even remotely phallic when Trina wasn't looking.  
After assuring his wife that the redness in his face was just the warmth of the room, Marvin deliberately pinched Whizzer's inner thigh each time she asked him a question.

It was much easier at Whizzer's apartment. He lived in a neighbourhood well known for the particular demographic of its residents, so they received no scandalized stares when he pulled Marvin inside by the wrist, neither of them attempting to be subtle about their intent. Clothes would be discarded in a hurry on the way to Whizzer's bedroom and afterwards Marvin would disentangle himself from the bedsheets and make them tea. They would bait and insult each other, reveling in the banter and shoving each other around. Sometimes they would make a long evening of it- always at Marvin's request- and it could even be nice. Marvin refused to cook, and they both acknowledged that they couldn't go out to eat, so they made do with Whizzer's cooking, which was, quite frankly, sub par and nowhere near as good as Trina's. The time Marvin- who had been in an abominable mood for hours- brought it up robbed the evening of being one of the only two they got through without screaming. Whizzer even hefted a shoe at his head. It was one of a pair that had been bought with Marvin's credit card, and that revelation had led to angry, very grabby hands over Whizzer's stupid fucking tight trousers.  
But then Marvin would go home and it would all be quiet. They would make polite conversation and Trina would comment on how late he stayed out but never complain. Sometimes he wished she would tell him to go to hell or call him something they couldn't say in front of Jason, but it never happened. They smiled and pretended their marriage was anything more than the fallout from a relationship that was, at its core, really a desperate attempt to prove to himself that he was heterosexual. 

One thing that irked Marvin was that Jason adored Whizzer. For a child who seemed to have no friends his own age, on the rare occasion that Trina managed to coerce him into staying for a meal, he would hardly remember to eat because he would be quizzing him on cameras and how the different parts worked. It made Whizzer, who admitted to not liking children in general, visibly uncomfortable- which was understandable because he was eating with the family of the married man he was banging on the regular- but he always made a good effort. Marvin would joke that it was because they had a similar maturity level, but Whizzer would give him an evil look and Jason accused him of being too old to understand. His pointing out that Whizzer was only five years younger than him didn't help his case.

It was incredibly rarely that they would do anything at Trina and Marvin's- most of it being a touch under the table or a teasing wink over a shoulder. When something more did happen it was fumbling behind a locked door before anyone came home, and Marvin was very reluctant to get into anything there. Whizzer accused him of a double standard; he was cheating on his wife, then acting like Whizzer was being indecent if his hands wandered when they were anywhere but 'the cheap little pretty boy's apartment'. Of course it was directly after that fight when they'd been aggressively kissing in the den that Trina had caught them.  
Marvin had told Whizzer to leave, but Trina had frozen him in one of her perfected Mother's Glares she'd practiced on Jason as a small child. She'd been eerily calm throughout the whole ordeal, simply asking exactly how long, how often, and what it meant now. Her tone remained cold and quiet, and she kept her gaze on Marvin until she left the room.  
"Say goodnight to your son if you're not too _busy._ "

* * *

In the months before the divorce, the atmosphere in the house was almost choking. Marvin and Trina hardly spoke, and he didn't call Whizzer for three weeks after they were caught. When he finally caved, Whizzer on the phone had been snide and mostly unpleasant, but had picked him up from work the next day. He didn't bother to tell anyone, as the screaming matches had finally started a few days before and he didn't want to get into any more of it.  
Whizzer was oddly silent on the drive over to his place. Marvin had made it expressly clear that they weren't going to talk about what had happened and Whizzer's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. It wasn't likely that he'd been in a dynamic like this before, be it the length or complexity- he'd even kept telling him it wasn't going to last. The journey was short, and they walked inside in silence. Neither seemed particularly interested in anything physical- or even anything at all until the bottle of wine came out.

"You need to talk to Jason." It was spoken into the bottom of Marvin's glass.  
"Excuse me?"  
"Jason needs to understand what's going on. Why Trina and I are fighting."  
"And why is this _my_ responsibility?" Marvin dropped onto the sofa and scrubbed his face with both hands.  
"He likes you. I'm the asshole who's cheated on his mother."  
"So I have to explain to _your_ kid that his daddy's queer. Have I converted you now too?"  
"Fuck's sake, Whizzer, just help me out here. It'll be easier to explain it in the context of a relationship."  
"Since when is this a relationship? I thought I was just the pretty boy you were screwing because you weren't happy telling yourself you're straight."  
"Stop." For once he wasn't interested in getting into a fight. Whizzer refilled his glass and downed it.  
"Why can't you talk to him?"  
"Whiz, just talk to the kid. Or be there when I do- I don't care. You just need to be there."  
"So it's not your fault." Marvin extended a hand, took hold of Whizzer's waistband and pulled him towards the sofa. He rested his head against Whizzer's stomach.  
"I really need your help." A hand rested on the back of Marvin's head, long fingers tangling in his hair.  
"...Alright. Only because someone needs to be normal and not-repressed around that kid."  
"Thank you."  
"Go to sleep, Marv, you look like shit."

* * *

Jason remained sat on the sofa with his arms folded throughout the talk. He glared at the chessboard on the coffee table that Marvin had told him to put away; it was obvious he was plotting out moves against himself in his head. Whizzer stood behind Marvin, eyes on the wall as he wished he was anywhere else. Jason swung his legs back and forth, heels dully thudding against the bottom of the sofa.  
"So your mother and I have been having some difficulties. You know that Whizzer is my friend, right?" Jason shot Whizzer a scathing glare that could have killed someone more sensitive. "Well, we have the sort of relationship that your mother and I used to, and that's because- Jason, are you listening?" The nine year old was still glaring at Whizzer, who shifted where he stood. "Jason, Whizzer and I have a relationship like we do because we're different to a lot of people. There are a lot of people like us, but it means that things are complicated. I still love you, and so does your mother, but the way things are means that I can't have that sort of-"  
"Jesus, you're horrible at this." Whizzer elbowed Marvin out of the way and crouched in front of Jason. He was clearly uneasy, but he smiled at the kid, who remained unimpressed.  
"Jason, your dad and I are queers. Wh- Ow!" Marvin had delivered a hard flick to the back of his head.  
"Don't phrase it like that!" He hissed.  
"We're _homosexuals_ " He drew out the word for several seconds, "then. Which means that we like men in the same way most men like women. It means that your mom and dad can't get on the same way they did. Your dad did kind of a shitty thing-" He ducked as he felt Marvin move to flick him again. "Really?!"  
"He's nine, don't curse."  
"Oh like he hasn't heard worse in this house!" He turned back to Jason. "Your dad did something crappy." Marvin let out an exasperated sigh but didn't try to correct him. "To your mom and that's why they're fighting. Because I'm his...boyfriend?" How the hell did you explain something like this to a nine year old? Especially one as smart as Jason. Sugarcoating as generally a good tac for children, but Marvin's son was looking at him as though he was cutting him through the bullshit as quickly as he as laying it down.  
"Do you guys love each other?" He said it accusingly, the way only a little kid could pull off with full sincerity.  
"Uh..." Shit. He knew you shouldn't really lie to children, but he also didn't think it was healthy to start explaining the dynamics of a relationship based on sex and fighting. It was bad enough he knew that it had been an affair. The question of whether or not he loved Marvin was one that he didn't like asking himself, as it was certainly the longest relationship he'd been in. But that wasn't how he worked. Of course they didn't. "Uhhh-"  
"Basically, Jason," It was Marvin's turn to kneel in front of the sofa, and Whizzer was thankful for the interruption. "I don't want anything to change. It'll just be that Whizzer's here too."  
"You're going to get a divorce, aren't you?"  
"I don't want to. Hopefully not, if we can make it work." 

They couldn't.  
They endured three months of playing by Marvin's rules- which essentially meant denial and a forced friendly atmosphere. Whizzer would come for dinner two nights a week and make sure Marvin knew just how much he wasn't enjoying himself. Trina gripped her cutlery tight enough to turn her knuckles white but always remained incredibly civil, refusing any help with washing up or preparation. Jason would stare down at the table until one of his parents finally said he could leave. Only Marvin ever wanted to talk whilst they ate, and he was quick to get frustrated when no one was eager to join in. It was Whizzer's job to calm him down when he insisted on driving him home and they ended up yelling at each other, and Trina's to do the same after they fought when he got home. Either way, it was all about Marvin- that much seemed to be a recurring theme.  
After three months, the seams finally split. The divorce was as amicable as one really could be considering the circumstances. It was pushed through fairly quickly with no custody dispute and Marvin bought an apartment a short bus ride away. Whizzer, whose place was much smaller, and who had grown used to living rent free in his early twenties, agreed to move in with him as long as it was still clear theirs wasn't an exclusive relationship.  
It was warm and thick-carpeted, with large windows the neighbours could definitely gorp through if they were nosy enough- and Whizzer had made enough loud, inappropriate noises the night after they moved in to ensure that they would be. It was exactly the sort of introduction Marvin hadn't wanted in a place where no one had heard every detail of what had transpired between him and his wife.  
Marvin indulged him in his decorating because he had no desire to endure his snippy remarks about cushion covers for the duration of their being together. Jason made no attempt to hide the fact that he didn't like being there, and Trina never fully crossed the threshold when dropping him off or picking him up. 

Marvin still insisted on all of them eating together on Tuesdays and Fridays, but the tension had dissolved a little. They still didn't talk very much, but at least the air was somewhat more clear than it had been.

* * *

After that the touches were more aggressive.  
Now they were free to fight and screw and tease, both of them seized the opportunity with both hands. They would tempt each other back to bed with no protests of Marvin getting home to his wife or that Whizzer couldn't be seen leaving his house any later than this, or shove each other into walls and kiss aggressively without fearing the possibility of leaving bruises or scuff marks on the paint. They could spend a whole night together without having to make excuses to anyone else, and there was something so warm and friendly about it- something that hadn't existed in Marvin and Trina's marriage for years, if it ever had at all. Although it was a relationship built on adulterous foundations, it was more sincere than the one with vows and legality. They'd never mentioned _that_ when talking about the sanctity of marriage.

Whizzer would drag him along to gay bars and make him drink as if he were ten years younger than he really was. They could kiss openly in the middle of the dancefloor, something Whizzer- a very grabby drunk- tremendously enjoyed, and didn't have to worry about being masked by a large crowd. It was largely because it embarrassed Marvin, but also because apparently his ass 'could have a street named after it'.  
Whizzer was much more a product of the gay scene than he was, so it was always him persuading the other to take the floor and to actually talk to other people there. When he felt like his lover was being particularly standoffish, Whizzer would make a point of openly- and sometimes obscenely, Marvin would argue- flirting with anyone who looked like they would be willing to buy him a drink. One thing he was exceptionally talented at was pushing people's buttons, and he showed no hesitation in doing so when he felt slighted.

Now they didn't have to be careful, he lost the little restraint he had enacted when it wasn't crucial for them not to be found out. He took an odd sort of pride in giving Marvin hickeys or, as he called it, 'marking his territory'- an expression Marvin detested but couldn't make him drop. Whilst it was admittedly a relief that there was no element of secrecy, Marvin still bristled every time someone gave one of the purple smudges on his neck a repulsed look.  
Whizzer found it hilarious. _He_ was _very good_ at shrugging off judgment, in fact he almost made it into a sport. There was something sad about that, but he refused to acknowledge it. Both of them made a point of not acknowledging things that might be considered even remotely personal for fear that the other might misconstrue it as an admission of strong feelings, and that- whether or not they actually possessed said feelings- was considered a cardinal sin.

**Author's Note:**

> This the first (of probably many) Falsettos fic I've written, so any comments- even if you're just telling me to go to hell- would be warmly appreciated.


End file.
